


sink or swim

by ScrivenerSavannah



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Other, but mostly this is just a lot later, mermaid au, sort of not really have plot for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:21:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrivenerSavannah/pseuds/ScrivenerSavannah
Summary: A calm night is disrupted and a few secrets are shared.





	sink or swim

**Author's Note:**

> I've been kicking around a Mermaid AU for a while, and the prompt "at sea" finally nudged me into actually writing the thing down. Un-beta-ed, sort of silly, sort of sweet, mostly gen.
> 
> Important edit: A lot of the ideas and inspiration behind this was hashed out with @raphcrow, who deserves every bit of that credit and contributed her usual brilliancy to all of this. Written and edited myself, but her ideas and suggestions play an important role in this as well.

Gonff liked night watch. It gave him a bit of leeway when he was slow to rise in the morning (which he was whether he'd stayed up half the night or not), and the expansive emptiness of sky and sea and blackness always spoke to the poet in his soul. He wedged himself into the prow, back to the bowsprit, and fussed with his flute, trilling a brief melody, then another snatch of a song.

It was a small crew, though still bigger than that first skiff he, Dinny, and Martin had commanded, seeking the hidden island of Salamandastron. That was well over a year ago, now. Gonff kicked his feet out in front of him towards the small brazier glowing in the blackness of the night, sending soft music circling towards the stars.

At the other end of the deck, a second brazier burned brightly, where a handful of the crew were gathered, not tired enough yet to forego the promise of gossip and ale. “Give us a tune, Gonff!” Log-a-log called, and Gonff settled into something fun and recognizable to them all, a quick tune that had two of the sailors on their feet and dancing together, boots stamping out a rhythm on the worn boards. The rest belted out the lyrics in high good humor.

_“Give me a ship and give me a sail_  
_and I'll never leave the salt water_  
_over the sea and over the swell_  
_and never ask for no other!”_

Martin came out of the aft cabin, ducking under a swinging arm, and continued to the prow of the ship to settle next to Gonff. “Lively tonight, aren't they?”

Gonff finished the song with a flourish and tapped his flute against Martin's calf. “Lively every night, matey. Where've you been?”

“Charts,” Martin said, nudging Gonff in the side with one foot. “Log-a-log's still up? I was hoping to ask him about—”  
Gonff rolled his eyes. “Martin, matey, it'll be there in the mornin’,” he said. “Relax. We're berthed safe, we can decide which direction we're headin' in in the morning.”

Silence. Both gazed across the deck to the small group about the brazier. Timballisto had brought out his fiddle and was playing away, providing the music for the dancers now that Gonff had stopped.

“Fair enough,” Martin said. He tilted his head back to look at the stars. “Clear night, at least.”

“Aye. Think it'll storm?”

“Stars willing, no. I was thinking of heading back north, though, and northern weather can be unpredictable. There're trade routes there we can—”

“Martin, mate, do you even know how to relax?”

Martin laughed at Gonff's exasperation, but at last settled to sit next beside him. “Why do I need to know how to relax when I've got you to remind me?” he teased.

“Matey, captain or not—” Gonff said, mock scowling and jabbing his flute in Martin's direction. Laughing, Martin pushed it to one side.

There was a sudden flurry of noisy hushing from the rest of the crew, and Timballisto’s fiddle fell silent with a screech. Martin and Gonff exchanged looks, and stood to go investigate.

“All right, what’s going on?” Martin asked, hands propped on his hips.

“Log-a-log ‘eard sumthin’,” Dinny volunteered in a loud whisper.

Martin nodded at their navigator, inviting him to explain.

“Somethin’ like singing. Distant and far off, but high and clear as a bell on midsummer morn.”

“Singing, hm?” Martin said, and scanned the horizon. “Can you still hear it?”

“Stopped when we got quiet,” Log-a-log said, scowling with frustration. “I just don’t know where it’d be comin’ from, really.”

Gonff laughed. “It’s a siren, o’ course, what else would it be?” he said jokingly.

“Silly,” Martin chided, eyes still on the sea around them. Gonff grinned, unrepentant, only to share bemused glances with Dinny when Martin continued, “Sirens never come close to ships, not if they can help it.”

It suddenly felt very dark and very lonely around their small fire. Gonff was forcibly reminded of how small they all were, how arrogant it was to ride the waves in a craft so fragile as their ship, and to think they’d conquered the sea. Gonff stepped closer to Martin, touching his arm to catch his attention. “Martin, sirens don’t—”

This time, they all heard it. An eerie note cut across the night, soft and clear as struck crystal. It soared high, then swept low, then soared high again to hold steady for an inhumanly long time. Gonff grabbed Martin’s arm on instinct, trying his best to hold him still. He needed have bothered. Martin stood motionless, face pale in the moonlight, jaw slack as he stared at the dark water unseeing.

“Martin—”

His throat worked convulsively, and he turned to grab Gonff by both shoulders. “Gonff. I need you to do me a favor—don’t ask questions, not—“ He stopped, shook his head. “What I just heard—you heard it, too, right?”

Gonff laughed shakily. “I think we all did, mate.”

“Could you play it back? On your flute. Please, can you play it back?”

It was Gonff’s turn to swallow. “I’m not all so sure that’s a good—”

“Please.”

There was a raw desperation to the word Gonff had never heard from his friend before, and he stepped back and raised the flute to his lips without making the conscious choice to do so, never taking his eyes from Martin’s face. He had a good ear, and he hit the pitch first try, sending the same three notes back out over the calmly lapping ocean.

The five men on deck held their breath, waiting—though for what, Gonff didn’t know. Log-a-log’s teeth were chattering in fright, and Timballisto had gone very still, like a mouse hiding from an owl on the wing.

When the song came again, it was louder, closer—five quick notes rising up and up, almost like laughter. It was almost immediately followed by a splash.

Martin had moved too quickly for any of them to catch him—even Gonff, who had half expected it—and was up and overboard before the short song had even finished. Gonff swore, loudly. “Get lanterns, we need light! Dinny, rouse the crew, all hands on deck—Timballisto, throw out a line—”

Seizing the lantern hanging from the main mast, Gonff rushed to the railing and leaned half over it, holding the light over the dark water. Heart in his throat, he scanned the waves, cursing himself for ever playing the damned response, for bringing that thing, whatever it was, closer—for not grabbing Martin when he knew the man would do something reckless like this. “Martin, if y’drown, I swear I’ll never forgive you—” he half shouted into the night.

There were shapes moving under the water. Gonff squinted, trying to track them. One was certainly Martin, his white shirt catching the dim light of the lamp, a small spot in the sea. The other moved in a sinuous, writhing circle, getting too close for Gonff’s comfort. He was ready to dive in himself and take the consequences, his foot actually on the railing, when two dark heads broke the surface of the water.

It was a siren—face and torso of a human woman, high cheekbones and narrow chin framed by twists of dark hair. She held Martin tight by his upper arms; he returned the grip just as tightly. They revolved slowly, the water rippling away to lap at the the sides of the ship, eyes locked as if their was no one else in the world. When the siren spoke, something strange and hypnotic lurked in her voice, so hair-raising that it took a moment for Gonff to process what she’d actually said.

“I thought you were dead!”

“Me?” Martin laughed incredulously. “What about you? I thought _you_ were dead!”

“Your ship blew up!”

“You were harpooned!”

“I survived!”

“So did I!”

They were both laughing now, still staring at each other like a starved man at a feast, awe and pure joy on both faces. “I thought you were dead,” Martin repeated, and lifted one hand to push wet hair out of the siren’s face. She leaned her cheek into his hand, eyes soft.

“What—what exactly is going on?” Timballisto said, hands braced on the railing as he stared at the scene below.

Gonff was hanging half over the railing now. “I don’t know anymore, mate,” he said and gestured helplessly at the pair with both hands. “He just does things. I give up tryin’ to make sense o’ it.”

“Yeah, he’s always been like that,” another voice with the same underlying vibration said from below.

Caught off guard, Gonff yelped and overbalanced, falling overboard with a splash. For a moment, he panicked—in the water with at least one siren was a bad place to be—and thrashed his way to the surface. There was shouting on the deck above him, and Gonff spun frantically in the water, trying to gain his bearings.

“Sorry!” That same unsettling voice spoke again, and Gonff turned to face him, kicking back. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” The second siren was male, with shorter hair and a rounder face. Where the female siren looked to be an adult, this one was a teen; Gonff suspected he’d be all elbows and knees, if he were on land. He grinned, showing sharp, serrated teeth. “I’m Brome.”

Even in as bizarre a situation as this, basic manners were automatic. “Gonff,” he said, treading water. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but—” he raised one hand, started to sink, and splashed it back down. Brome laughed, and Gonff slowly began to relax. “So, sirens, eh?”

“Gonff, catch the line, quick!” Log-a-log yelled from the deck, certainly the loudest voice among the panicked clamor. Gonff kicked hard, rising out of the water to wave reassurance at the rest of the crew.

“It’s all right!” he hollered. “I think these are the friendly sort!” He sank back, went under momentarily, and came back up spluttering to look at Brome. “Right? Not gonna eat us or anything? I mean, those teeth are a bit unsettlin’, matey.”

Brome laughed again. “No, you lot taste terrible,” he said, and shot off backwards, fin raising a swell underwater. When he was far enough back to not splash he turned over and dived, disappearing from view. The very tip of his tail flicked out of the water, a flash of quicksilver against the black sea.

Gonff huffed and pushed soaking hair out of his face. “That’s not exactly reassuring,” he called when Brome resurfaced yards away. He kicked out towards Martin, lecturing his captain as he went. “As for you, you great wave wallopin’ oaf of a captain, you took a full decade off my life, pullin’ a stunt like that. I’m tellin’ Germaine on ye when we get back, see if I don’t. Jumpin’ overboard without a word of explanation or a by-your-leave…”

Martin had been making his way back closer to the ship, laughing as he listened, and then laughing harder when Gonff splashed him. “Sorry.”

“You don’t sound it,” Gonff accused, then surged forward the last few feet to put both hands on Martin’s shoulders and dunk him underwater. Martin wriggled away and resurfaced to spit water in Gonff’s face. He sputtered, and was planning on how best to retaliate when Martin nodded at the siren, who had drifted closer.

“This is Rose.” She studied him with as much curiosity as he studied her, with Martin treading water between them. “Rose, this is Gonff.”

“I wager I have you to thank for keeping this one alive,” Rose said, flashing Gonff a sharp grin of her own.

“For goin’ on a year now, maybe more,” Gonff said. “Though I’m afraid I have no idea who you are.”

“Is that so?” Rose glanced sideways at Martin, though there was no real heat in it.

Martin met her eyes without apology. “I swore I’d never speak of Noonvale,” he said, “for the safety of those who lived there.” He struck out back towards the ship, passing them both. “Though now that vow might be moot.”

“There’ll be mutiny if you don’t give some sort of explanation,” Gonff said. “You did jump overboard to go meet a siren. Stunt like that’d get you drowned, normally.”

Rose submerged, then surfaced next to him, eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement. “And yet that’s not the stupidest thing I’ve seen him do.”

“Really?” Gonff said, beginning to grin. “You’re gonna have to tell me all about it. It’ll be hard to top some of the stunts I’ve seen him pull.”

Martin ignored them both, wrapping a line around his arm and using it to climb back onto the boat, where he was met with more concerned shouting from the crew. From the sound of it, Dinny and Log-a-Log had him well in hand. Gonff started to follow, only to pause when Rose twined fingers into his shirt, tugging him back down. “Keeping him alive isn’t easy,” she said, eyes dark and solemn. “Thank you.”

Gonff gave a crooked smile, and a sloppy salute with his free hand. “Well, if nothin’ else, it ought to be easier with two o’ us.”

Laughter like music shivered over the waves as Gonff clambered back aboard. His grin widened as he swung his legs back over the railing, watching Martin, bent double and still dripping, endure Dinny attacking his hair with a rough towel, lecturing him at the same time. Whatever story was about to start, he knew—soul-deep—that it was going to be a fantastic one.


End file.
